Broken Stasis
by Runa Crozari
Summary: Ed & Al discover a way to create a true Philsopher's Stone where only one life need be sacrificed. Thanks to Dr.Marcoh's daughter, but will she let them have the experiment? And what happens when the experiment isn't something they expected?
1. Silence

_Silence._

The night in the secluded mountain research facility was soft and calming. The song of crickets chirping wafted through the cool, crisp air of the surrounding forest. It was nighttime, and all things were resting. Except the owl, whose smooth, alerting hoot echoed beyond the trees.

_Silence._

Then, wild sound. Feet stomping, pounding over the dirt and onto the cement foundation of the research compound. Urgent, commanding voices shouting over the distances, adding to the calamity. Stony cocking as men in black suits handled their cold, metal weapons. Frantic alarms blared throughout the building, permeating through the stone walls and sending the forest animals into chaos.

_All for a mistake that had been made years ago. All to get back what was rightfully theirs_.

And through it all, he grinned. His fiery amber eyes swiftly scanning the halls he ran through. Right behind him was heavy metal clanking, as though something large and obviously loud was stalking closely behind.

The two stole quickly through the long, hypnotically pristine-white walls of the lab. Even through his panting, his grin never disappeared from his young face. In the near distance, around the corner, he heard cocking and clicking sounds that he knew to be the readying of guns. And the same smirk he was wearing throughout, grew to what one could describe as psychopathic.

Growing ever nearer to the corner, he lolled his head back to look at his brother trailing behind. He inclined his head and eyes forward and slowed his sprint just enough to let his sibling pass. The scrapping of metal against metal , armor ever, grew louder for a moment as he took the lead. The blonde-haired boy, who had relinquished his first most position, aligned himself behind his brother, ready for the onslaught of bullets he knew were to come.

Funny, he thought, He'd never even dreamed of stealing a person. Much less, _her_.


	2. Grey

It seemed like the two had been spending more and more time in that building. Almost like a refuge from something they didn't wanted to admit. Funny, the truth they wanted to escape was discovered right in that very building.

Day after day, hour after hour. So much so, that it had seemed to become a second home, now. Or rather, the only home if you wanted to get technical.

It wasn't as if they didn't belong there—in all actuality, they were two of the few people with permission to that specific library. They weren't looking for anything, no, they had found that long ago. They knew what they had to do. If they _could_ do it. Their whole journey up until this point, this very moment in time, had been called into question. Their motives, their path, their beliefs. But of course, higher beliefs had long been thrown away.

Perhaps it would be better to say that they weren't looking for anything physical as much they were mental. What course of action came next? And the new path that lay before them . . . was it the right one to take? Or maybe it would be better to turn away. To ignore everything that they learned and experienced on this journey. To drop out of state alchemist ranks and just disappear. To forget everything.

_Everything._

Every little thing. Every excruciating detail. But then . . . what? Nothing? To throw away years of hard work and suffering for the "quiet life"? Maybe it would've been better if they had never tried it at all. If they had never tried to play the role of God. To try and change the course of the universe. But, who was to tell them otherwise at that time? A dead mother? A missing father? They were only children. Many before them tried and failed, and they were to think that they were any different? And in a way, they were. But not different enough. There's a reason the sun scorches. It was something they'd thought about, but kept deep below the surface.

But, was the other path any better? The thought of being called selfish also brought their motives into question. To take innocent, or non-innocent, lives for a single purpose? For a single mistake? Even if those lives were voluntarily given up. Even if those lives had grown tired of living and longed for death. Even those lives had taken souls of others. . . just to turn around and have their own lives stolen. To become . . .a murderer. No matter what label you attached to it, or how you looked at it, to choose this path was to become a murderer. A mass murderer, at that. They thought about this too, but buried it down even deeper.

Who exactly did they think they were? To have the nerve to try and bring back the dead. To tread on God's territory. Then, to contemplate killing people. What did this make them? Animals? Devils? They were called that, but they were only children. Behind the state alchemist title and the tough façade, they were nothing more than children. With fear and grief of their own, hidden deep inside. Fear and grief, that children, or anybody, should never have to experience. But, for every action, there was a consequence. The bigger the action, the greater the consequence. Sort of like Equivalent Exchange.

Edward let out a sigh, letting his head fall softly on the plush armrest of the couch he sat upon. He slid open heavy lids to stare darkly at the squeaking, rotating ceiling fan. It was afternoon; streaks of burnt orange sunlight squeezed their way through the loosely drawn shades, leaving oddly-shaped specks of light on the carpeted floor.

Papers and books were everywhere, as if someone had gotten mad at what they read. As if they knew truth, but didn't want to admit that that maybe the only way to get what they wanted. Almost like a child who threw a tantrum because they couldn't get what they wanted. Only, this child could get what he wanted, but was unsure if it was really worth it.

They had been over these papers dozens of times, nothing new met their eyes. They searched over and over for some, any, possible flaw in their translation, a missed sentence, a loophole. Nothing. Every time they looked over these notes, Ed felt his frustration mounting. It was Al who always encouraged him to look again and again. Something about Al's voice, they way he gently urged Ed to search again, gave him the thin sliver of hope that there was a mistake made. But in the back of his mind, Ed knew that every word would be exactly the same as the first time it was read. Every sentence, every letter, every punctuation exactly the same as the last time.

Maybe the only reason he agreed to look again was for Al's own sake. To show Al that he hadn't given up, though the dark thought of quitting lingered in the back of his mind. But he wouldn't let Al see it. Just like always. He never let Al see his fears, his doubts. And he'll never let him see those worries, flaws, doubts. Never.

Alphonse shifted slightly to look at Ed. He was sprawled over the couch, dead silent. With an arm nonchalantly hanging over the edge. There was something that Al didn't like. It was almost as if Ed was saying, "That's it. It's over." Though silent, body language is still a powerful thing. He watched from behind unseeing eyes, heart heavy. Al noticed how the muscles in Ed's arm, chest, face, his whole body, would tense up even the slightest bit.

"What do we do now, brother?" Al asked. True, he asked this question a number of times after learning the truth. And it was the same. The answer was always the same. Silence. . . followed by a mumbled, "I don't know." Yet, somehow, Al always managed to muster up enough hope to think that the answer would be different this time.

A soft sound of fabric rustling was made as Ed tilted his head down to the side, his amber eyes roved lazily over the carpeted floor. He let out a gentle whoosh of air though his nose. There was the expected silence, followed by the anticipated, "I don't know, Al. I don't know."

And oddly enough, Al was content with his reply this time. Maybe it was the fact that he was able to hear his name again. His brother hadn't spoken it an awhile, and he supposed he just missed hearing it. It had been a while since Ed had addressed him directly. And for now, Al was happy. Or rather, as happy as he could be in this situation.

He pushed the other thing to the back of his mind, but not out. And for now, that was okay.


	3. Revelation

Of course, this change in behavior didn't go unnoticed. Especially by a parent with a child of their own. In a way, he felt as if he had adopted Edward and Alphonse. With their mother dead and a long missing father, it must've been hard. And to be entangled with something as monstrous as the Philosopher's Stone. But those boys were tough. Though all they had was each other, it was all they needed to get by. But he couldn't help but worry how this responsibility they they've taken upon themselves would wear on their bodies, minds, and hearts. So, it was the least he could do. To look after the boys.

Maes' electric yellow eyes trailed down the contents of a Doctor Tim Marcoh's state alchemist file, his eyes never missing a word. Every letter, every punctuation, every speck of black ink was seen. It didn't do Maes' too much comfort to know of Ed and Al's situation knowing that there was someone who could help. Knowing full-well the consequences of pulling a stunt like this didn't bother him at all. After all, it wasn't as if he was releasing this information to civilians.

And after all, what else was he to do? A parent always wishes for the happiness of their children. A parent always wants to help their children in any way they could. Whether those children were "adopted" or not.

Hughes stopped and tapped his finger on a single section of the late alchemist's file. Quickly, he read it over; making sure this was what he searched for.

_Name: Reika Marcoh_

_Age: 28_

_Relation: Daughter_

And in dark, bold type was a five-letter word that made the lieutenant colonel crack a small grin.

"**_Alive"_**

Awhile ago, Ed had managed to fall into a light, fretful sleep. Incoherently mumbling and grunting when he shifted around on the sofa. Al, too, had grown tired from boredom and stress. He lifted his head when a light knock interrupted his wallowing between the world of reality and dreams. The metal gears in is suit clanked dully as he moved to get to his feet.

"Ed," Al said, testing his brother's consciousness. Edward's eyelids had slid open at the first knock, though he made no motion to answer it. He waited momentarily, staring with a slight frown at the pale ceiling, debating whether or not if he should even give this person the time of day. Al waited for his brother, not wanting to allow someone he didn't want to see in the room.

Giving an airy, distraught sigh, he hefted himself up and sauntered over to the door. He drooped his hand lazily over the knob. Al watched his Ed's sluggish movements to the door. The slightest hint of light came to Ed's dull eyes as he saw who awaited them on the other side of the door. His eyebrows shot up a little.

"Lieutenant Colonel." Ed greeted simply, sidestepping to let Hughes in. Edward wondered exactly what he was doing here. He had told the colonel to stop with the morale talks awhile ago. Ed warily eyed the folder tucked securely under Hughes' arm.

"Edward." Hughes said right back, walking into the room, poorly hiding his grin. This didn't go unseen by Alphonse, who took primly took a seat across from his superior.

"Do you have some new for us, Lieutenant Colonel?" he asked. Hughes let go of a small chuckle. Al wasn't one to really beat around the bush when it came to important matters. This was no doubt a trait picked up from Ed, who never beat around the bush in _any_ situation. Though Al did now how to hold his tongue. Hopefully, this manner of subtlety would rub off on Edward, who had no comprehension of the word "inconspicuous", or "silence" for that matter.

"As a matter of fact, Al, I do." Hughes raised the file for the brothers to see before letting it fall lightly to the low table. Ed immediately reached for it the second it hit the table, the overhead lamp light glinting across his deft metal fingers. He had taken off his white gloves awhile ago, with nothing better to do with trace over the circuitry of his fingers with his eyes.

"'Reika Marcoh,'" Ed read aloud carefully. Flipping the file open he asked, "Who is this?" Memories of a certain Tim Marcoh flooding back to mind. Edward bit his bottom lip, not daring to tear his eyes away from the name "Marcoh", even when Hughes answered his inquiry.

"She's Doctor Tim Marcoh's daughter." Maes leaned back, putting his elbows up on the top of the couch and crossing one leg over the other.

"His daughter?" Al asked. Ed's eyes glanced up once before returning back to the contents of the file. Something within Ed grew. It traveled up from his heart and into his throat. A feeling that he couldn't put into words. Probably because he had lost that emotion awhile ago. Why Hughes would be telling them this, he didn't know, but his mind hinted at a possible answer. His heart began to thunder in his small chest.

"Yeah," Hughes said, moving his hand in an upward motion, as if this information, most contrary to the truth, was no big deal. "She may be able to help you with the Philosopher's

Stone-"Right there, Ed slammed the file down on the table, keeping his hand over it.

"Where does she live?" he demanded, eyes burning with urgency. Maes shifted his narrow eyes to meet Ed's. He wanted to say, "Did you read the whole file, Ed?" But he bit his tongue and decided to make it easy for them. They had been through enough already.

"A small town just outside of the city of Marron." Maes leaned forward, head slightly tilted down, the light reflected in his glasses hid his eyes, but his deep frown was clearly evident on his face. Neither Ed nor Al saw this.

"Should we go there, brother?" Al asked, hands clasped hopefully in front of his metal chassis. Ed grinned at him.

"Are you kidding? Of course we are." He said, turning to grin triumphantly at Al, fingers curled into a victorious fist. Maes leaned forward, now resting his elbows on his knees. He weaved his long fingers together and looked at the tile on the floor. Maes thought over what he was going to say to the boys, lips locked in a grim frown. As much as he wanted to help the boys, he did still work for the military. And so, what he said next, was required by his work contract.

"Ed, Al." he started to get their attention. Immediately, Al and Ed snapped their heads to look at Hughes, both of them sensing the serious tone of his voice. "This experiment is still undergoing development. You two are not to interfere in any way that can compromise the intended success of this project. Do you understand?"

Ed looked at Maes with a frown. Why would he tell them this? It took Ed awhile to get the gist of Maes' statement. When he did, his frown grew deep. "Because the states' already got their claims on the experiment and they don't want anybody messing with their property, I take it. Especially property that isn't completed." He bit out, annoyed, glaring dully at Maes. Maes stared back at him with a frown of his own. Edward let out a barely audible breath and turned his glare to the wall, worried that Maes would take his anger for the state personally.

Ed's glare lessened as he realized the position the Lieutenant Colonel was in. Giving them this information of his own personal will, just to help them, probably knowing that Ed and Al would undoubtedly do _something_ with that experiment. But at the same time, he had to remain true to the army he worked for, so he made sure to say "leave it alone." Edward was grateful and something reminiscent of a formed on his lips.

"Um," Alphonse started sheepishly. "What exactly _is_ the experiment?" He asked, hands demurely folded together in his hard lap.

Maes looked at him, eyebrows up and a surprised frown etched across his face. When did ever just flat out answer someone's question? And Al expected different this time? Ed and Al waited anxiously for his answer.

There's a difference in knowing something from being told and discovering the answer for yourself.

This in mind, Maes answered, with a grin, "Well, Al, you'll just have to find out the truth for yourself."


End file.
